Broken
by Anonymity is crucial
Summary: Things go from bad to worse when a mission goes horribly wrong. A new organization out for the blood of the youngest member shows its face and it's up to the most broken to find the way out. In the world of heroes, no one is safe. Peter Whump, because I love it and I'm a terrible person. There are more characters than are listed. (1st in Fight series)
1. Author's Note

**Hey guys, long time no see huh? I should really be focusing on the unfinished stories I have already posted, but my train of thought left the station about five minutes before I reached the platform and the next one isn't coming anytime soon, so I apologise. Recently, however, I saw the new Spidey movie and I LOVED it. It was probably my favorite Spider-man movie so far, and it makes me terrified for Infinity War...This story has been flowing through my brain for a few weeks now and it took me this long in order to actually put it into a proper plot with words and things so yeah.**

 **Side note from all that shit. I've been struggling lately with some stuff and if this gets dark and all that, that's why. It's been tough lately for some reason and I have no idea, but it's just been really hard for me. There are sometimes when I feel really good and happy, but then after the fact it wears off and I feel all tired and worn down. Work, even though it's only five hours a day maximum, for a few days a week, kills me and I just feel drained afterwards so that's fun. I'm sorry if I'm rambling here and I doubt anyone actually reads these things, but I need to get all of this shit off of my chest. My thoughts have been getting darker lately and I just really needed to write this and things went all sideways and wonky and wow, I'm just, yikes. If this story takes a turn for the worst, I'm sorry, blame my mindset as of right now. I'm not an emotional person at all, but I feel all choked up writing about this and words sometimes can't really convey emotions, but I'm just having a hard time so if that bleeds through, I'm sorry. I'm trying to work it out, but it's an arduous process, especially when I have to bail out a boat with a teaspoon and don't even know where to start.**

 **Thanks for reading if you do. Favorite, follow, comment, do what you wish. I love you peeps and if any of you are struggling with anything at all, or just want to talk, let me know and I'll do my best to respond as soon as possible. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this.**

 **Peace my dudes, dudettes, and other fun folk.**


	2. Chapter 1

They were ambushed.

No warning, no sign, just an immediate surrounding of their team and near instant takedown. Supposedly, The Avengers were the top team, the ones sent in to minimize damages, or the ones sent in to quell threats that normal humans couldn't deal with. Ever since the Accords, the team that was fractured slowly made their way back to one another, healing wounds and burying hatchets. Some rifts were yet to be fixed up fully, such as between Stark, and Rogers and Barnes, but they all were able to work together for the most part.

The main group, Captain, Iron Man, Thor, Widow, Hawkeye, and Banner on coms for Hulk wasn't necessarily needed at the moment, was supposed to infiltrate a base that was a suspected terrorist hub. The group was so down low that they didn't even have a name, well that anyone knew of. It was supposed to be a simple in and out. They would land a quinjet about three klicks away, hike through the forest, or fly if possible, and do their jobs once they reached the base. The hope was to be as undetectable as possible in taking the base down. Previous teams had been sent in to determine if the base was actually a hub for this organization, but none of the teams ever reported back, which was why the Avengers were creeping around.

They were ready to break the treeline and head in when each member realized that they were surrounded. Sure, it could have been an easy fight out, if it was a normal terrorist group, or even Hydra, but somehow, these men and women seemed to know exactly what each of their weaknesses were. It was mere seconds before the soft sounds of bodies hitting forest floor were heard, and the shuffle of boots against leaves.

They didn't even know what hit them.


	3. Chapter 2

"Hello Mr. Rogers, how are you feeling? I hope that the drug isn't causing you any discomfort. You see, I did my best to make it perfect for you, but sadly, there is only one of you, so I couldn't be sure. There was one other who has a similar, how would you say, uniqueness to his genetics as you, or at least his biological makeup, but there is no replacement for you Captain. May I just say I am a huge fan of your work and all that you do."

Steve woke up strapped to a chair that appeared to be one and the same with the floor without any seams or weak points. The cuffs that held him were stronger than he was and covered his whole hand all the way to his elbow, and his legs and feet were no different, with the metal cuffs trapping his feet and calf. There was a metal band around his neck as well, keeping him from moving too much. He knew that the metal was stronger than he was because as soon as he woke up with that person staring at him, he tried to get out.

The person he saw looked like your typical, unassuming nerd, glasses and all. There was nothing distinguishing about him, no scars, birthmarks, freckles, hair pattern or color, even eyes. There was nothing remarkable about the man in the white coat other than his thick French accent.

"Who are you, what do you want," Steve spoke evenly to the man, with a hint of a threat within the tone. The man merely laughed and clapped his hands together. Even his teeth were unremarkably bland.

"My name is Dr. Hellekson, or the Artist as they all call me," the man spoke, but instead of a French accent, he obtained an Australian one. "They being the Corporation that is. I am the head scientist here, and I've been waiting for you and your friends to come. I was wondering how long it would take SHIELD to send their best in. Too bad so many had to leave this world in order to get it to happen," the Artist spoke, with a Russian accent. Steve continued to pull at his restraints, but all they did was groan slightly and never move. The man laughed at his struggle with a cruel smile.

The smile was the only thing that could be used to find him. It was like a hyena's cruel laugh, but in physical form. It spoke only death and brought only chills and terror. It might appear normal, if not for the wicked glint within his brown eyes that showed only the glee he got from bringing fear. Steve had fears of course, but never has he felt so much unease and discomfort just looking at a smiling man before.

"What do they want? I'm assuming there's a reason that you wanted us all here." Dr. Hellekson clapped his hands together in a sharp manner that made the Captain flinch slightly.

"Well, all we really needed was you, Stark, and Banner, for genetics and brains. You see, your blood has been flowing with the Serum for years now, and it won't leave you because it has become part of you. You blood can be synthesized into a new and improved Serum by yours truly and the Corporation really wants an army of, well, you," the Artists spoke cheerfully with a British accent. Steve looked at the man with a confused expression and the man rolled his eyes and lightly hit his forehead with the heel of his palm.

"My accent, of course. Well, in order to blend in in the many places I've been, I've needed to learn the languages of many countries and groups, as well as learn to impersonate accents from around the world. Each time I speak, a different accent appears, and that is how it will be Mr. Rogers. You will never know anymore than my face and my name. Then again, you can't even be sure if it is my real name now can you. Or even my real face. I mean, technology today allows you to change your appearance quite spectacularly. All you know for certain Mr. Rogers, is the Corporation will get what it wants."

"You won't get anything out of any of us."

"I'm not so sure about that Captain. Currently, Black Widow and Hawkeye, or should I say Natasha and Clint, are being held securely in a level far below the surface without any doors or windows or means of escape. They are in separate rooms, barely big enough to call a closet, in chairs much like yours. The rooms are soundproof and completely void of light. They will be held there as long as you and your science buddies don't cooperate. Thor is currently being held in a similar fashion to you as well, only he is strapped to a table, in an all white room, void of doors and windows, also sound proof, but the best part. The walls are so thick that if he attempts to call his precious hammer, it won't be able to get anywhere near him.

Banner is currently in a lab with guards surrounding him, orders to shoot if Hulk happens to appear. The only problem is, these guards have guns that carry a special creation of mine meant to immobilize and eventually kill even the big, green fella. These guards also have the best shots in their unit. If he makes it past them, there are twenty more with the same formula waiting at all angles. The same material keeping you here is the same as the cage he is sitting in. If he does not comply, he will face consequences.

Stark is in another lab, building us weapons. Guards with similar accuracy are watching him, with the same contingencies in place. If he makes one wrong move, one part out of place, he will suffer the consequences. Each team member is held according to his or her weaknesses, and any mistake with result in severe consequences, and that includes you."

Steve looked at the man, absorbing his words, before cocking his head to the side and giving a dark smirk. The man walked closer to him and gave him a puzzled look, but there was something in his eyes that made Steve shiver. Something was off, something wasn't right.

"If you think that Tony Stark is going to peacefully build the Corporation weapons, you really don't know him all that well do you?" Steve gave a short chuckle, but his smirk fell when the man smiled and gave a short chuckle as well.

"I have to say Rogers, you do have a point. The problem is, we know all about Tony's tendency to not follow rules, and we know all about each and everyone of you. We know your childhoods, your family members' lives, your friends' lives, your dates' lives, anyone who's ever come into contact with any of you, we know everything about them. We know what your habits around, what foods you like or dislike, what products you use in your hair. Hell, we even know your favorite songs and whether or not you sing in the shower. And if you do, you are damn right if you think we know what songs. You see Captain, the Corporation does their research before attempting anything."

Steve held the man's gaze, clenching his jaw shut. He refused to be intimidated by this man, but the look in his eyes and his smile made it difficult. The man paced the room slowly, gesturing and making expressions that made it seem like he was some normal guy talking about normal things during a normal conversation.

"How do you think I ended up here? The Corporation saw my work and pulled me in. They made the same speech about knowing everything about anyone I ever saw, no matter how brief the contact was. They offered me a choice, do I want to face the consequences or do I want to do what they asked of me. I was young and foolish and refused to do their dirty work, so I suffered the consequences. Now, years later, I don't care anymore. I have been numbed to the work, and even take pride in my creations. I love what I do. Aww, I see that you started to feel bad for me when I talked about my early refusal. That's so sweet, and it's what will get you killed. Honestly Captain, your reckless behavior and blind trust are what lead you astray every single time. It's just the facts," the man spoke, hands clasped behind his back.

"You really don't know anything about Stark. He was threatened before, and yet he still managed to make it out. No matter the consequences, I refuse to give you anything."

"No matter the consequences," the man muttered with a pondering look. "Really, no matter the consequences? We could do anything and you still wouldn't comply?" Steve steeled his nerves and jaw and glared at the man. The man's sadistic smirk returned full force before a truly manic glint in his eyes appeared.

"Say Captain, when was the last time you heard from any of your buddies? Falcon, Ant Man, Wanda, Bucky," the man spoke, emphasizing the final word, hoping to get a reaction from the trapped man. It was instantaneous. As soon as the word rolled off of the man's tongue, Steve lurched forward with a growl.

"You don't touch any of them, you wouldn't dare." The man walked closer to Rogers and stared him dead in the eyes, so close their noses almost touched. His eyes were narrowed and his face was blank. After a minute of staring, the smile slowly grew into something akin to the Joker's and the man jolted back with another sharp clap of his hands, once again causing a slight flinch from Steve.

"You're right, I couldn't get my hands on any of them, too many witnesses and too many complications. So much work, too much if you ask me. Thing is, they all have friends and family that would miss them and protect them if anyone came close. Even Bucky is protected currently by the King of Wakanda himself. I haven't touched a hair on anyone of your side's heads."

"What do you mean my side?"

"Well Steve, can I call you Steve? You can call me John if you'd like. Anyways Steve, during that little feud your little club had, you took sides didn't you, gathered your own teams. You had Wanda, and Clint, and Scott, and Bucky, and Sam. Stark had Colonel Rhodes, heard he's doing better by the way, and Vision, and Natasha, and T'challa, and that scrawny Spider-kid. I wonder if any one of them would be easier to grab?"

Steve quickly thought back to the last time he's seen any of the Avengers, and even those not in the Avengers, but who fought alongside them. He spoke with Sam before the mission, Clint and Natasha were with him, Vision and Wanda were safe at the compound, Bucky and T'challa were still in Wakanda on a trip back to upgrade Buck's new arm, Rhodey was working on his rehab, Scott phoned in saying he was going to spend time with his daughter mere minutes before the mission began and the communication was cut off. That left the Spider-kid that he dropped 60 tons of metal on and got swatted to the ground by Giant Man. Steve thought hard about the last sighting of the red and blue figure, but he couldn't remember. For all he knew, the kid was still swinging, kidnapped, or worst case, dead.

He felt terrible. He knew that Tony would probably be keeping better tabs on the kid, but personally, he had no idea what happened to the kid. Steve knew that he took down a plane, crash-landed it on a beach and saved probably hundreds, if thousands, of lives. That was two months ago. That was the last Steve heard from him. Hell, he didn't even know if the kid survived it, or how he would have survived a fall from that height, and subsequent crash. His heart gave a twinge when he remembered their last interaction involved Steve nearly crushing the kid under tons of metal.

"Hello, earth to Steve," John spoke, snapping his fingers in front of the supersoldier to gain his attention. Steve jerked back to the present world and the man smiled at him, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. "I assume that you disappeared in your noggin in order to remember who you have seen and talked to recently. While skimming through memories, you would have realized that the only one that you hadn't seen since a certain airport battle nearly a year ago, is the Spiderling. Two months ago he downed a Stark plane, saving many lives, and nearly losing his own in the process.

Did you know that Tony Stark took the suit back from the kid, the one that was all protective and stuff? Yeah, he was wearing a hoodie, sweatpants, and knee socks when he crashed that plane and fought a supervillain. Oh! And this was after getting a literal building dropped on top of him. It's a miracle he made it out of the building alive, an impossible feat that he survived the crash and subsequent battle that ensued, managing to save the life of the man trying to kill him, before skedaddling away before anyone arrived. A week or so later he ends up at the Compound and was asked to be an Avenger. He refused, can you believe it? He refused, saying he was going to be a Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man.

After that, he was seen swinging around for about a week more in his new suit before vanishing off the face of the earth. The days prior, he fought and defeated yet another villain, Green Goblin, A.K.A. Norman Osborn. Many died and most believe that Spidey died as well, seeing as how after the Goblin was retrieved from the webbing he was found in and placed in prison, the Spiderling was nowhere to be found. Now, even a month later, no one's seen any sign of the wallcrawler. Isn't that strange," the man concluded with a dark look that was combined with a strangely innocent and questioning look, causing the man to look even more twisted that he already did.

Steve's mind was reeling with all of the information he just received. Tony took the kid's protective suit and the kid somehow managed to survive a plane crash, being crushed by a building, and nearly being killed by this Green Goblin character. Or possibly actually killed by the Green Goblin.

"Don't worry Steve, the kid's alive. That's all he is, a kid. Can you believe it? Tony Stark recruited a teenager, barely in high school, to battle against soldiers and other super people. You add those fourteen years of his life to the six months he had been the web-slinger before that battle, and those numbers are awfully low compared to everyone else's don't you think?"

Steve gritted his teeth and made a mental note to ask Tony what the hell he was thinking.

"Don't you touch him or I swear I will-"

"You'll what Rogers? You'll kill me? You'll beat me until I stop moving? You'll sick the Hulk on me? What will you do Steve? Give me your best threat because I will expect you to go through on it, that is, if you ever get out of here."

"What have you done to him?"

"Oh nothing much. You remember how I'd said that there'd be consequences? Yeah, well, I wasn't completely honest as to who will suffer. You see, if anyone steps out of line, you will all suffer the consequences, but it will be the kid who suffers. Do you understand Rogers? If you try anything, if Stark tries anything, if Banner, or Romanoff, or Barton, try anything, anything at all, the kid will pay the price. If you don't comply, the kid will pay the price. If you so much as look at me funny, the kid will pay. Are you getting this all Steve?

I know it's a lot to take in. It really didn't have to be the kid, I did try to find another before I went to him, but everyone else was protected and had people who would notice their disappearance from home. The thing with this kid is he goes on trips for the "Stark Internship" and there happened to be one that will last a couple months. The school thinks he's in some other country helping his old buddy and mentor Mr. Stark with some new fangled project. His two friends think he doesn't have cell service, which is actually true right now, and that's about everyone who'll miss him."

"Surely the kid has a family, parents, siblings, someone who'll notice if he doesn't check in?" Steve was praying that the kid had someone. He couldn't bring himself to believe that this kid, probably fifteen by now, who had two friends and a school that didn't seem to care if he was missing for months, had no family left. The man's face changed into one that appeared to be sympathy and almost, sadness.

"Unfortunately, when the kid was younger, his parents died in a horrific plane crash that turned out not to be an accident. It was probably for the best though considering who his father was and what he was doing to his son. The kid ended up with his aunt and uncle until his uncle was killed in front of him, literally held him in his arms as he bled out, a day or two before Spider-man showed up. Since then, it was the kid and his aunt. The worst part, and I don't get emotional, but this kid has lost a lot, was how his aunt died. After the plane stint, the aunt found out about the whole vigilante gig he had going on and just wanted him safe.

The Green Goblin showed up and Spidey went to fight him, but got his ass handed to him and managed to crawl away. He didn't crawl fast enough and the Goblin learned of who he was. During their final battle, the Goblin had kidnapped his aunt to goad the kid into said fight. The kid won, but there was a casualty. He wasn't fast enough to save his aunt from being impaled by the Goblin's glider. Yet another family member bled out in the kid's arms, a little over a year from the first. Since then, Spider-man vanished and we caught up to him about three days after."

Steve blinked rapidly, trying to process what he heard. The kid lost everyone. He barely had anyone to begin with, but two family members bleeding out in your arms in the span of a little over a year has got to be crushing. The kid must be going through the mourning period of a lifetime, and a suffocation guilt one as well.

"He's alive?"

"Currently, yes he is. If you want him to stay that way, you'll be compliant. What do you say Steve? Still ready to fight, no matter the consequences?"

Steve closed his eyes and swallowed the lump that formed in his throat before staring down the man.

"No."


	4. Chapter 3

Tony found himself in a lab, surrounded by high tech gadgetry. Glancing around the room, he saw two guards by the only possible exit, holding large guns, looking intimidating. Spinning around to look at the lab, Tony realized what they wanted him to do. Suddenly, a screen crackled to life nearby and Tony nearly sprinted over when he saw Steve strapped to a chair like an animal.

Every word that was said, every word spoken, Tony heard. He heard Cap defending him, and how the man used words to his advantage. He saw how the man moved and used body language to convey intimidation and give off terror. He heard the man call out each person by name, his breath catching in his throat when the man mentioned Spider-kid. There was only one of those, and Tony wanted him to be far, far away from this. He hadn't been close to the kid recently. Tony saw the kid maybe once after he gave the kid his suit back, and that was to tell the billionaire that Aunt May knew. Since then, all Tony's known was what was on the news. He didn't answer his phone, he didn't look at the Baby Monitor Protocol, he didn't try to contact Peter in anyway. He really should have. It wasn't until the news three days after the Goblin battle that Tony realized how badly he had fucked up.

By then, he seemed to be too late. The day after the battle, the destruction was shown, two days started naming victims, by the third, the rest of the names trickled through, including one that made Tony's blood run cold and his body freeze in shock. May Parker was kidnapped by the Goblin as a tactic to get Spider-man to fight him. Unfortunately, she was run through by the Goblin mere moments before Spider-man could web him up. According to eyewitnesses, Spider-man held the woman's body before vanishing into the shadows of the night.

Tony dropped everything and broke every street law in order to get to Peter's apartment. There was no answer so he let himself in, but found it empty. Upon checking his phone, he saw a multitude of texts and phone calls from the kid, each of which were heartbreaking in their own way. Most before the Goblin mess were little things he felt good about, but a lot of them were also Peter asking for help or rambling on while seemingly crying. The closer to the Goblin incident, the less happy, and the more broken Peter sounded. The voicemail that Peter left after the Goblin incident nearly broke Tony.

 _"H-hey Mr. Stark. I know you haven't been, uh, answering me at all, and I'm not even sure if you're listening to me anymore. I just, I don't know what to do anymore. I don't have anyone, I don't have...I can't Mr. Stark. I need, I need your help. Please, j-just call me back Mr. Stark. Please Tony…"_

Tony listened to the message too many times. He scoured the city for Peter, he even checked where he never wanted to, hospitals and morgues, for possible John Does. Tony wasn't sure whether to be thankful or terrified that nothing panned out. That was a month ago and Tony had given up after two weeks. He knew he shouldn't, but he figured that the kid needed time alone to grieve. He was still concerned about the kid though and kept leaving him messages that were never answered. Tony had scoffed at the irony of that. He never answered the kid and now the kid wasn't answering him. Even though he couldn't look for the kid anymore, as he ended up roped into something else, he still felt as though something was wrong, really wrong.

Now, staring at the screen as Peter's escapades were listed off and Steve gave up purely because this man said he had Peter, Tony realized that he was right, and no matter how much he loved being right, he never loathed it so much. The screen went black and Tony was left staring at his face. He could help by hate himself for ignoring the kid.

Stalking back to his table, he sat down and tried to think of how he was going to get himself, and everyone else, out of this situation. Right as he went to pick up a piece of metal, the door opened with a hiss and shut behind the man, Dr. Hellekson, as he walked in.

"Did you enjoy our little show Mr. Stark? You understand why you are here correct?"

"Not really, could you explain it to me again? Maybe this time without using a kid as leverage," Tony spat angrily, but the man showed no signs of being affected.

"Of course. We have some designs for weapons, ones from your company, that we'd like you to build. We have added in our own touches of course, so I hope it won't be too much of a hassle."

"How could you use a fucking kid like he was some tool in your belt?" The man merely blinked and continued smiling.

"You were ignoring him after you gave the suit back. He has two friends. He lived with his aunt. He was a vigilante. He nearly died many a time and you never knew until you started feeling guilty that you left said fucking kid all alone when his only family member died in his arms and he couldn't even stay with her. But hey, he saved the day, thousands were spared, but a kid lost his whole world. What did you do Tony? Did you know about all of the times he was shot? Maybe the times he was stabbed? Perhaps a few other villain plots he stopped that weren't quite big enough to make the news, but bigger than his normal petty crime, armed robbery stuff? Did you know that he came close to dying every single night he donned your suit? What about the times when he didn't want you watching his moves so he reverted back to his original costume idea? You didn't pay any attention to him Stark, admit it. You didn't care."

"Don't you fucking dare tell me I didn't care about that kid! You don't know anything you bastard."

"Oh I think I do. You threatened to tell the kid's aunt that he was Spider-man when he first refused to go to Germany. Then he gets thrown around like a rag doll by a giant man, and nearly crushed under 60 some tons of metal by none other than Captain Rogers, and you tell him that he's done. How would you take it if you were told to stand down, your done, in a snappy manner? You'd think you did something wrong. Then came the Vulture incident, but before that was the ferry. He tried to help, he tried telling you, but you never responded, so how was he supposed to know you had taken care of it?

You took the suit from an already hurting kid, causing a spiral of pain. He went home in tears, Tony, because you basically told him he was nothing without the suit. I know that's not what you said, but he said he's nothing without it, and then you went and said that he shouldn't have it if he's nothing without it, before taking it away. What does that say? How would you take it if someone took the one thing that gave you purpose in life? He went home to his aunt and broke down saying he screwed up and lost the "Stark Internship". He tried to stop the bad guys, he did his best to keep the ferry together. He did his best with what he knew and then you take the one thing he loves away from him.

He was crushed by a building in that original suit you gave him, crying out for help and nearly giving up. He got up though and managed to take down the Vulture, and your plane. He could have let it crash-landed where it was headed, but instead he used his strength to crash it on a beach with no one around, nearly killing himself in the process. Then the Vulture nearly killed him as well, and yet the kid still saved him. What do you do? Nothing. You know the kid crashed you plane, but a week later, that's when he hears from you. He nearly died and you call him to the Compound a week after and ask him to be an Avenger.

He refused, not because it was the right thing to do, but because he was scared. He fought a big baddie in sweatpants and knee high socks because you refused to listen. He's just a kid, he can't do anything harmful, right? You give him the suit back, and then a day later he tells you Aunt May knows. You respond with a shrug and he swings away. You never noticed his body language when you showed such disinterest. He looked up to you, notice I say looked, past tense. He got more and more reckless, kept getting injured, but refused to let anyone know. He nearly bled out on a rooftop, but woke up a few hours later in a pool of his own blood, wounds already closing. After the Goblin, well, he just gave up and stopped his antics all together. He shut himself away and didn't talk to anyone. That's when we grabbed him. When he was all alone when he shouldn't have been. It's been a month Tony, you think if you cared you would have noticed."

"Noticed what? Noticed he was in pain? Noticed he was missing? Noticed that I fucked up as a mentor? Because I noticed that screwed up big time and I know I should have been paying more attention and treating the kid better, especially after the Vulture incident."

"There it is."

"There what is asshole?"

"You think you should have been paying him more attention especially after a giant incident that could have been prevented if you listened and communicated with him a little more, like about the FBI on the ferry perhaps? I know you were keeping track of him, but he didn't know that. Did you even know about the building falling on top of him and his sobs for helps? I didn't think so."

"He wasn't wearing the suit, I couldn't track his every move. I wasn't even in the city at the time."

"I wonder why he wasn't wearing the suit, oh wait. You didn't even notice the biggest thing."

''Then enlighten me why don't you."

"He is fifteen and was threatened by his date's father. He skipped out having the time of his life with the girl of his dreams to stop her father. He skipped out on having a good time with his decathlon team to stop another robbery. He kept dropping things important to him to stop the villain, and you were off galavanting in some other place while he risked his life and happiness. We found him on a roof."

"What?"

"We found Peter standing on the edge of a roof, when we grabbed him. He looked awful. You could see the guilt radiating off of him. You could see the pure anguish he was in, the kicked puppy look you could call it."

"Why was he on the roof? That isn't uncommon, he is Spider-man afterall. Roof jumping and web-slinging are his things," Tony said with a slight smirk, but when the man's face became somber and looked like he felt sadness over the situation, that smirk fell right from his face. Tony shook his head slightly when the man opened his mouth to speak, a lump forming in his throat. He refused to believe what he knew this man was going to say.

"He was going to jump Tony, but he wasn't going to web-sling away. I hate doing this, I really do. He looked broken, shattered, you could see the defeat in his eyes when he turned to face me. I can't unsee that look. Never have I ever seen such utter hopelessness before, and my job is to create a feeling of hopelessness. I managed to talk him down from the ledge, and noticed he didn't even have his web shooters so I asked where they were. You know what he said. He told me that they were broken during his fight with Goblin. Then I asked where the suit was, and poor kid was so dead he didn't even care that I knew who he was. He told me he left it folded up in a brown paper bag, in Tony Stark's place of residence.

Why, I asked, would he give it up when he didn't have to. He looked at me with the oldest eyes and the weariest expression and said that he didn't deserve it. You know what else he said. He told me that Tony was right, he really shouldn't have the suit, he was nothing without it and didn't deserve it. He also said he wasn't going to have a use for it anymore so why leave it where someone would find out about him. 'Let the world think Spider-man's dead', are his words, not mine, 'it's true'."

Tony shook his head, refusing to believe that the happy-go-lucky chatterbox of a kid he met and took to Germany would become so broken. Then again, maybe he was always that broken, and just never had anyone around to put him back together. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"I want to see him. If you have him, and what you're saying is true, I want to see him or I'm not doing anything." The man nodded forlornly and pulled out a tablet.

"I don't become invested in anyone's lives because people are so fragile and they have a nasty habit of dying. This kid, he got me. He didn't put up a fight or care when we seated him in a car and took him here. He seemed to be in a daze. We never had to place any restraints on him until we were forced to strap him to a bed to give him nutrients because he refused to eat. This past week he's gotten better at eating, but it's still iffy. I can tell you, Tony Stark, that if I hadn't needed this kid, he'd have been gone a month ago."

On the screen showed Peter Parker, sitting cross-legged on the ceiling of a decent sized room. There were a few books scattered on the floor near a chair and a bed on the opposite wall. A door on the wall led somewhere, but Tony had no idea.

"It's the bathroom. We had to take any sharp objects and such out just in case, but we figured he could use some privacy. More often than not, he's sitting like he's sitting now, staring at nothing. Whenever he talks, it's short and staccato, and his eating habits, as I've mentioned, are not great, but are slowly getting better."

Tony noticed how the sleeves of his light grey shirt bulged out slightly and he could see some white gauze poking out from the end of the sleeve. His eyes started to feel watery, but he blinked away the potential tears as the man put the tablet away. He royally screwed the pooch on this one.

"Can I, can I speak with him? Maybe I can help get him to eat something." The man looked conflicted before pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes.

"I'll give you five minutes with him. If you can get him to eat something, I might extend the time. Otherwise, you're here working on the weapons. Any funny business results in consequences. Deal?"

"Deal."


	5. Chapter 4

It felt like it had been years, but also mere minutes. Sure, if he asked he could very well know the date and time, but he couldn't bring himself to verbalize this. He was so tired, too tired to speak beyond a soft yes or no. The most he'd spoken involved him uttering a soft yes followed by incoherent mutterings because those were all of the words he could manage to get out.

He's read the books that were given to him multiple times. He's paced the room, walked the floors, walls, and ceiling so much that if you looked closely, there were faint trails ingrained in them. Everything was bland, the colors, food, books, furniture, everything. They took anything that could be harmful. His sweatshirt had no strings and no hood, his sweatpants had no string as well, no sharp object could be found anywhere. Everything was bolted down and nothing could be hung from anywhere in the room. There were no sheets on the bed, so even if there was a way to hang something, there was nothing around to make anything hangable.

The only thing that could be hung was himself, sticking to the ceiling like he used to do before. The ceiling was his favorite place, hanging upside down, no worrying about anything, just relaxing. It was during one of these meditation times that he heard the hiss of a door and in stepped the man who brought him here. He didn't bother speaking, so neither did the man, who called himself the Artist, or whom he called Art.

Art merely glanced up at him with a small smile and the Spider hummed in response, but refused to move.

"I brought you a friend kid. He really wanted to talk to you," Art spoke softly before shifting slightly to the side to allow another man in before the first left the room, door shutting behind him. Peter stared at the man standing by the vanished door with confusion and shock.

"Tony," Peter said softly, unconsciously shrinking closer to the ceiling, and trying to keep himself from running away from the man, or leaping at him and embracing him. Tony hated hugs though, any sort of affection really. Peter, on the other hand, loved hugs, cuddling, anything that made him feel loved and safe really (and was platonic, get your minds out of the gutter, yeesh). The billionaire stared up at Peter with a mixture of emotions written across his face. Peter didn't know what they were because he was sure that Tony never showed guilt, or remorse, or sadness, or fear. He was Tony, always laughing stuff off, never one to show emotion.

"Pete," Tony said, equally as soft. The man stared at the hanging boy in relief. Besides looking like shit, the kid looked alright.

"What are you doing here," Peter asked the man, speaking the most he has in a long while. Tony stepped closer to him and Peter kept himself still and steady, but his body was humming with the want to escape. He knew the feeling was irrational, but after what he's been through, he didn't like being approached by anyone. Tony looked like he was conflicted before he spoke.

"The Avengers, we, were on a mission that brought us to this compound, but we were ambushed and captured." Peter's eyes widened before a look of hurt flashed across his face briefly before it vanished back into the slightly wary, but otherwise blank look he had adopted as his natural appearance. "That guy, the Artists or whoever he is, wants something from each of us, and he's using you as leverage." Peter hummed in response, not moving an inch. Tony felt a pang go through his heart the more he watched the once energetic, bouncing kid.

"You care about me," Peter replied softly, slowly uncurling from his position and lowering himself to the floor, dropping the last couple feet and landing in his signature crouch before standing to face Tony. The billionaire flinched as he noticed how tiny the kid was. The sweatshirt he had donned a little while before Tony entered was gigantic on the kid and the sweatpants hung off of his hips and the ankles pooled at the floor. He looked like a little kid trying on his dad's clothes and the picture was heartbreaking.

"Of course kid, of course I care. We all care about you Spidey, you're one of us." Peter blinked a few times before speaking in a tone void of all emotion, something that terrified Tony. The kid was always so expressive and emotive, but now, now he was an empty shell and it scared Tony.

"I'm not one of you, remember? I turned you down and we haven't spoken since then. You made the offer and I went home. We spoke the day after, well, I spoke, but you shrugged at me and I left right after. Do you care Mr. Stark? Sometimes, I would think maybe you care, I would start thinking that maybe you do give a shit about some random kid from Queens, but then you shrug when I tell you that my aunt found out, and you don't answer me when I call or text, and you don't pay attention to anything going on around you. I stopped by the tower a few times Mr. Stark, each time you were there. Do you even remember me showing up? I remember you telling me to scram once. Another time you threatened me with a flyswatter. A few times you merely shrugged at me, and a couple you were in a drunken haze and yelled at me to, and I quote, 'leave me the fuck alone or aunt May won't be the only one who knows who you are'. It really seems like you care Mr. Stark," Peter finished angrily, tears pricking his eyes. He sniffed and slid an arm across his face to wipe the tears away. His throat felt raw from the rant and he merely turned and walked away from the man.

"Pete-"

"Don't Mr. Stark. Don't call me that. Only a few people can call me Pete, and those are the people who truly care about me." 'Ouch', Tony thought, 'that stung, but it's true'.

"Look Spidey, I know I ignored you, I know that I never responded. I know I was wrong, I know I fucked up big time, that I majorly screwed the pooch, hard." Peter scoffed at that, facing Tony once again.

"Really, I hadn't noticed." The snark slipped from Peter's lips as angry tears threatened to spill over the edges of his eyes.

"I'm sorry Peter, I truly am, I apologise for everything," Tony spoke in an almost pleading manner. He never begged, but he was begging the kid to understand that he was feeling horrible about everything.

"Wow Mr. Stark, really?" For a second, Tony thought that maybe he got through the the kid, but that was before he looked him in the eyes. Oh, the kid's eyes were filled with so much pain and heartbreak that it nearly killed Tony a dozen times over. He looked ancient, and worn well beyond his years.

"Kid, please."

"Sorry doesn't just fix things Mr. Stark. Have you ever dropped something breakable? It shatters on the ground, millions of pieces. You can say you're sorry to it all you want, but it's still shattered. You can find every little piece and glue it back together, but it will never be the same. Once something is broken, it takes time and patience to fix it, and even then, it is weaker and more fragile than before. I'm sorry too Mr. Stark, that it took you getting yourself and the Mighty Avengers captured to be able to say you're sorry. Hell, if you hadn't come on this mission, would you even care I was gone? Did you even notice? Did you have any idea where I went? You can't tell me you care and that you're sorry when you gave up on me," Peter shouted, his voice cracking at the end as tears flowed freely down his cheeks. A fire was glowing in the kid's eyes and Tony backed up further as the kid moved closer.

"You don't get to waltz in here and say you're sorry when the only reason you and I are here right now is because of you," Peter snarled, jabbing the man in the chest. Tony hissed in pain, knowing the kid put some strength behind the gesture, causing it to hurt more than a normal jab.

"I am sorry kid, I don't know how to tell you. I know I'll never make it up to you, and I know nothing will be the same, but I am sorry," Tony said, his desperation and emotions leaking out through his words and causing the once fuming Peter to lower his shaking hand and collapse to the floor. Well, he would have, but Tony caught the kid before he could reach the cold cement. Tony growled when he felt how light the kid was as he slowly helped him to the hard bed and sat him down before sticking a tray of food on his lap.

"I'm sorry," Peter muttered and Tony's eyes widened in confusion and shock.

"What the hell, kid, what are you sorry for? You haven't done anything wrong," Tony spoke in a gentle, yet still somewhat forceful manner, causing the kid to flinch slightly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save them, I'm sorry that I let myself be taken, this is all my fault." Tony couldn't believe what he was hearing. Jeez this kid had a guilt complex the size of New York, maybe bigger.

"You saved so many people kid, you prevented so many families from losing each other. You didn't let yourself be taken, they grabbed you when you were vulnerable. We are going to have to talk about that moment later, when we get out of here, alright? As for this, this is not your fault. It's my fault, the Avenger's fault, it has nothing to do with you. I should have been watching out for you. If I was, you wouldn't be here."

"No, I wouldn't. I'd just be sitting in some orphanage somewhere, or in foster care." Tony grimaced at the kid's sudden change back to emotionless. His body tensed and became stiff and Tony felt the pain radiating off of him.

"Listen, kid, that's not true. If I'd been paying attention, you'd be with me, in the tower or at the compound, and we'd be there figuring something out. Look, you need to eat something. You're verging on twig territory," Tony said with a smirk, trying to make light of the situation, but the smile fell when he saw the half-hearted shrug Peter gave before he started eating what was on the tray.

They sat in silence for the minutes it took Peter to finish his food, and a few more after that. Tony was pretty sure his five minutes had ended a while ago, but he was glad to just sit next to the kid he had been worrying about for a month.

Peter didn't like the food, the last few times it had been drugged, which is why he stopped eating a lot. Then they drugged his water, so he stopped drinking that too. He had to start drinking again though because they'd force him to be strapped down with multiple lines coming from his body to get him nutrients. The worst one was the tube that went in his nose to his stomach in order to keep him from starving himself to death. He started eating a little more, and drinking just enough, to prevent them from strapping him down again. He wasn't going to eat, but Tony seemed so broken that he had to. He was pretty sure it was drugged again, but so far he was still conscious.

That was when the room started to get darker, and spin. Peter felt himself slipping slightly and he started to hyperventilate and panic, grasping Tony's arm forcefully, eyes wide in terror. He didn't want to go under again. When he would wake up, it wasn't good. It meant pain, and pain wasn't good. He didn't like the White Coats, the were evil, they reminded him too much of memories of his childhood. Things he wanted to forget, but never could. He barely managed to squeak out Tony's name and 'drugged' while pointing at the tray before the door hissed open and men stormed in, taking a kicking and screaming Tony away as Peter felt himself fall back against the bed, boneless, and everything went dark.

If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that he had to get everyone out.


	6. Chapter 5

Tony wasn't sure what happened. One second he was sitting next to Peter in a comfortable silence after the kid ate, and the next thing he knew, the kid was grasping his arm in a dead man's grip, fear and panic showing in his wide eyes. Tony started to panic himself when the kid muttered out 'Tony' and then pointed to the tray and gasped 'drugged' before the door hissed open and the kid's eyes rolled back into his head.

"Let me, let me go! Kid! Pete! Peter, can you hear me?! Don't you touch him you bastard! Don't you dare or I swear I will kill every single one of you! I swear," Tony screamed as he was literally dragged from the room. He watched as Peter collapsed backwards and slowly slid from the bed before being caught by two orderlies and dragged from the room, feet scraping limply against the floor, head lolling with the movement. They vanished around the corner of a hallway as Tony was dragged back to the lab he woke up in and thrown in a chair. The Artist stood in front of Tony, hands clasped behind his back, and smirk on his face.

"You bastard, you used me. You knew that I could get him to eat and you used me! How could you be so heartless," Tony spat at the man, who merely laughed in response.

"Oh Tony, you didn't think that I cared about the child did you? The Corporation hired me because I was skilled in blending in, meaning I could control my words, actions, body language, and emotions without any effort, and also control other people's emotions as well. I've managed to twist the minds of many a good man. Quite a few of the men and women here at the base used to be full SHIELD members, but a good talking to and some minor persuasion and they were loyal to a fault. It usually takes me a day at the very most to break someone. I thought I had finally gotten to the boy, what with his semi-catatonic meditations on the ceiling and minor mutterings of yes and no. It seems that he isn't as broken as I thought. He's certainly special, isn't he Tony." If looks could kill, the man would have been dead years ago.

"You piece of shit. What kind of person uses a child?"

"What kind of person ignores a broken one," the man spoke in curiosity, enjoying how Tony visibly flinched at the jab. "The boy was broken when I found him, but the thing is, he refused to shatter. There's a little something I never told you Tony. It was really the boy I wanted, none of those other puny heroes, or whoever they are. The boy was the most vulnerable, and all we needed was for one more string to be cut and he'd be all ours." Tony's eyes widened when he realized what the man just said.

"You, you-"

"Yes, we did. We slipped a little note to the Goblin as to whom Spider-man truly was. We didn't actually mean for the boy's aunt to be killed, just for someone close to him to be taken away. Part of me was hoping for that larger boy, or maybe that strange girl who's obsessed with books. That would have broken him, without killing him. But the aunt, oh ho ho, that was marvelous. He couldn't even grieve Tony, you realize this. He held his aunt in his arms as she died, and was forced to leave her. Then, he had to act like he didn't know when the police came a-knocking a day later.

Sure he broke down crying for an hour, but he froze up afterwards and not even his friends knew what happened until the day before the roof. They tried to get in, but he didn't let them. He stopped caring so early the next morning, before anyone should be awake, when the sun was just rising, he stood on the edge of the roof, ready to let himself go. Afterall, he was already dead, why not make it official." Tony clenched his jaw so hard he was afraid his teeth would crack.

"We facilitated the whole thing. The boy knew who the Avengers were, he had been inside of the Tower and Compound. He knew things that we wouldn't necessarily know. I know, I know, we seem to know everything, but in all honesty, we don't. We can't get into the Tower or Compound after someone upgraded the security, and here's a hint, they aren't an Avenger."

"What? No one can hack my systems."

"A child by the name of Peter Parker did. It took him mere minutes to bypass everything and get into the heart of your systems, and this was about two weeks into his Spider career. You never even noticed that he planted a little virus in your systems that got rid of any information pertaining to a certain Peter Parker and Spider-man. Any connection that could be drawn between them was immediately erased before you or anyone could see it. After you invited him to be an Avenger, he took the liberty to go back in your system and upgrade everything to the highest grade possible, higher than even the Corporation's systems.

Anytime anyone would attempt to get in through an unknown or outside force, a small virus would attach to the address and wipe the person's system fully, without any possible recovery. Not only this, but it latches onto any data that was stored on it, or in the cloud, and infects every other device the person has that contains that info. Basically, the tiniest strip of coding could completely fry an entire company in mere seconds.

That's just the very fine first layer. If someone made it past that, there were still, at our furthest reach, at least ten more walls of coding blocking a person from even scratching your protective layers. We have no idea how this fifteen year old managed this kind of coding, or how many layers deep it actually runs, but once someone tries, they are infected with the virus with no hope of escaping it. Not even shutting down and unplugging the system works. It's impressive"

"So you needed to kid to hack his hacking?"

"No, no no Tony. We need the kid to tell us everything he knows, about anything. His IQ is one of the highest I've ever seen, higher than yours, higher than mine, higher than Dr. Banners, and quite possibly higher than Reed Richards, one of the smartest people on the planet. The child is beyond genius level, and we need him. You and your Avengers are a mere formality. We needed you to get the child motivated somewhat. He refused to break down, no matter how much persuasion I used, and so we figured we should bring in some other players. I could care less about what you build, or the genetics of Rogers and Banner, because the kid is all I need."

"So you lied when you said that you'd use Spidey against us." The man laughed, shaking his head.

"No, I will use him against you Stark. The thing is, we need you and your friends to convince the kid that he is of no use to you." Tony stared at the man in shock, jaw hanging open.

"No way in hell are we ever going to convince the kid he's worthless. He's already convinced himself of that, he doesn't need more people bringing him down."

"I'm afraid that if you don't, there will be consequences."

"You can't kill him if you need him." The man nodded, a look of thought passing across his face, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed.

"You're absolutely right Tony. We can't kill him. We don't have to though. If we kill him, we have nothing, no kid, no leverage, nada. Thing is, we don't have to kill him to break you, your friends, or him. I mean, he hasn't died yet, well, for too long," the man said with a smirk, watching Tony's furious reaction with glee.

"What do you mean 'not long'? What did you do to him," Tony shouted at the man, leaping to his feet but not moving for the two guards both pointed their guns at him, poised to shoot.

"We wanted to see how his healing factor worked, and things got a little out of hand. The interesting part was that we didn't shock him or anything when his heart stopped, it merely started up again when the wounds started closing slowly. Sadly, the healing has been getting worse with the less he's eating. Did you know that the little Spider can withstand more voltage than even Captain America? His biological makeup is incredible. The child is even stronger than the Captain and his pal Bucky. The thing is, the kid doesn't know how much strength he has, and neither do we. All we know is that around his half or three-quarter strength mark he can punch clean through a human being or cave a skull in to the point where they are completely unidentifiable. It's remarkable really."

"He didn't, he hasn't-"

"Don't worry Tony, he hasn't killed anyone yet. I wouldn't have needed you and your team if he did. If I had gotten him to kill someone, well, he would've been broken. He still stands strong though. Somehow, the kid is stronger than the strongest, most skilled assassins in the world, and even the most ruthless and emotionless people don't last as long as him. If he survives this whole ordeal, if you all somehow escape, you will have to watch out for the kid, because his tendencies and behaviors are going to kill him, and his strength is dangerous to even the strongest of you all. The kid is something special Tony, you should have realized it sooner."

"I know."


	7. Author's Note 2

**I know it's only been less than a day, and there's not many people who have seen it, but the amount of people who have favorited, followed, or reviewed (thank you for those wonderful words Cecy Midnight) is amazing. I debated even posting this story because it was purely for my own needs and wants, so the response I've gotten is amazing, I love you peeps so much, thank you guys. I promise I will finish this story, and I already have a follow-up planned that may or may not be a story or just a bunch of random one-shots following this storyline.**

 **I also apologize if the characters within this story seem out of character, I'm trying. I love writing and maneuvering already created characters, but to get them accurate is fairly difficult. I hope I'm doing an okay job, plus I have my reasons for making them seem a bit different.**

 **Tony is not the villain! I want to emphasize this to you all in case that's what's happening. I know that Tony was probably paying Peter a bit more attention than I have written, but honestly, it's like a three year old with a pet fish, it was fun the first few days, but after a while, it gets boring and you abandon the project to go to another one. While I don't think Tony would so blatantly ignore Peter, or just give up looking for him, my reasoning is that he got wrapped up in projects, and deemed Spider-man an older one, as well as one that could be managed indirectly. Tony has bigger fish to fry, he's an Avenger, and this is a kid who said he'd stick to the streets. The reasoning I have behind him giving up after two weeks is that he got sucked into another project that caused him to briefly set aside his worry and constant searching. He'd never abandon his Spiderling fully, just somehow manage to shove the kid to the back of his mind without trying.**

 **If you read these, thanks and favorite, follow, review, or just read and enjoy this story. I don't mean to offend anyone, or start anything, so please refrain from making asshole-ish reviews on my page. Positivity is great since I have so little right now!**

 **I love you peeps, keep fighting the good fight.**

 **Peace.**


	8. Chapter 6

The first time he was in the Room, he wasn't scared at all, hahahaha. He was fucking terrified. Sure, he had lost his will to live, but that didn't mean he wanted to be held captive. Peter struggled and pulled at the straps, managing to snap one of the wrist ones, allowing him to undo the others. Sliding off the table, Peter tried to head for the door, but a white circle on the floor, the edge about a foot away from the metal table that sat in the center on all sides, prevented him from doing such. When he tried to step over it, a blinding wave of pain cut through him and caused him to fall to the ground without even knowing it. He tried to scream in pain, but all that came out was a gasping squeak as he fell back into the circle and the pain stopped.

Slowly, he picked himself off the floor, looking around, noting that it was a lab of some sort, complete with blind white lights and a bunch of terrifying metal tools on another wheely metal table. Looking down, he noted that he was in a light grey, short-sleeve T-shirt with dark grey sweatpants that hung off his lean frame. He even had on light grey socks.

"Weird," he muttered to himself, stepping closer to the circle. He continued to get closer and closer, crawling on the ground somewhat, before he reached out to touch the line. As soon as his fingertip passed over the closest edge of the circle, the pain shot through his body once more and he blacked out.

When he came too, a man was standing in front of him, a plain black suit and tie, with average features and nothing noticeable about him. Peter wouldn't have given the man a second glance if he passed him on the street, if not for the wave of uneasiness that Peter was getting from him. HIs body felt like it was on edge, with his nerves tingling and muscles coiling, ready to launch him away. The little hairs on his arm even stood up, though it wasn't cold.

"Hello Mr. Parker, nice of you to wake up." Peter's eyes widened slightly as he tried to move forward, but noted that he was once again strapped to the table, this time with metal cuffs covering his hands.

"You were on the rooftop with me," Peter spoke quietly and a look of sadness flickered across the man's features before he continued smiling.

"Yes I was Peter. The Corporation calls me The Artist, and so can you."

"How about I call you Art, or Artie, and you tell me who this 'Corporation' is," the Spider snarked in an innocent matter, complete with the cock of his head. The man gave a genuine smile and a chuckle before nodding.

"Alright, you can call me Art. The Corporation is much like SHIELD, or Hydra, or any other hidden organization that you may or may not know about. The thing is, we are not on anyone's radar in the slightest. SHIELD believes us to be a low level threat, a simple, low-key terrorist group that isn't worth their time. Thing is, we controlled Hydra since it was created. We also have people within SHIELD, as well as most governmental systems around the globe, though mainly within countries capable of larger things. We pull the strings of the world, and yet no one knows." Peter gulped before plastering on his cockiest face.

"Yeah, well, not impressed. I don't even know if this Corporation is a real thing, or if you're just making stuff up Artie. I gotta say though, you are rocking the average look, I mean really, there is nothing special about you." Instead of being annoyed or offended in any way, the man smirked and clasped his hands together before walking closer.

"Why thank you Peter, that's what I was going for. As for me telling the truth or lying, I'm afraid you'll never know. Now, Peter Parker, or would you prefer Spider-man? I just want to be accurate with whom I'm referencing here." Peter paled visibly at the mention of his alter ego, causing the man great glee.

"P-Peter's fine," he said softly, losing his confidence.

"Alright then Peter, we're going to be running a few tests, seeing how it is you do what you do, and what makes you, well, you. I would say that this won't hurt, but then I'd be lying."

"You told me I'd never know if you were lying or telling the truth."

"I'm being honest when I say I'd be lying," Art said before stepping back and turning to walk out the door when five scientists entered, along with two burly looking men. They were all wearing a white get-up that looked like it would be in some sort of contamination area. Full-body suits with hoods cinched tight to their faces, as well as plastic booties around their actual boots. They started switching on devices and pulling out multiple tubes and objects that Peter didn't like the look of. He tried breaking out of the bonds again, only managing to make the metal groan.

He felt himself start to hyperventilate and he felt a panic attack coming on, which was not good. He'd been having attacks every day, usually multiple times a day, ever since he could remember. They only got worse as his senses became heightened when he was bit. Then they got to the point their at now when after Uncle Ben died, which meant they are extremely debilitating and severe. His body basically shut down on him and his mind went into overdrive. He remembers once having an attack after the incident with the plane and Liz's dad while he was doing Spider-man things, and it was the weirdest feeling. It was like something inside of him took over and he ended up on top of a roof, completely freaking out. In the alley below, the muggers were webbed to the walls with little injury, staring up at where the Spider disappeared with what looked like concern.

He saw spots dancing in his vision and his limbs felt numb, when there was a prick in his neck and his whole body melted and relaxed. Peter's head lolled forward, completely limp, as the drug took affect and mellowed his thrashing brain.

"Ve can't haff you passing out on us yet Mr. Parker," a woman spoke with a thick accent that Peter couldn't place because he felt all floaty and couldn't think straight.

"I think I still might, sleep sounds soooo nice right now," he slurred, words catching on his tongue. The scientist smacked him harshly and his head snapped back against the table with a harsh bang. Needless to say Peter was suddenly more aware of his surroundings. She fiddle with a drip that Peter just noticed was going into the crook of his arm. "Huh, I don't remember that getting there."

"Shut it twerp," one of the large, burly men said.

"You're not my mother, or are you, you wouldn't make a very good mother, too, big and muscl-uscly," he slurred on with his filter having been demolished by whatever the hell they gave him. Suddenly, the feeling began to wear off and he felt light-headed and woozy. "Ugh, I think I'm gonna hurl," Peter muttered, turning green, as the drug left his system.

"Interesting, the sedative appears to have worn off in less than two minutes, and never had him fully under. This much usually kills a fully grown man three times his size. We must discover how his system was able to expel it so quickly," another White Coat said excitedly, writing down her observations on a clipboard before pulling out a scalpel. "Lower the table please, it's time to begin."

Peter began to thrash around, queasiness forgotten, as the table made a whirring sound and lowered to lay parallel to the ground, yet high enough for the White Coats to work on him, yikes.

"The more you thrash, the more this will hurt," one of the male White Coats spoke, grabbing out two weird, tiny, paddle looking things. They were slightly curved with long-ish handles.

"What are you going to do, paddle me, was I naughty," Peter said, waggling his eyebrows, but cursing himself on the inside for being an idiot.

"These are spreaders, to hold back skin and tissue so we can get a better look inside." Oh shit, Peter thought as his face fell. He tried pulling, but he kept feeling weaker. Pretty soon, he couldn't move, no matter how hard he tried. He could move his face, and he could speak, but the rest of his body was completely paralyzed, yet not numb. That meant that when the White Coat dug a scalpel into his thigh, he felt every small movement made.

It was like she was purposefully going as slow as possible, with each centimeter more sending messages of agony to Peter's brain. It took all of his willpower not to scream, letting only muffled whimpers slide through. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and he was biting his tongue and cheek so hard that he could taste the blood. After what felt like years, the lady White Coat finished her incision and Peter let a shaky breath out. Unfortunately, just as he did so, the White Coat with the spreaders dug them into his leg and pried apart the flesh, ripping a scream from Peter's throat. Tears were trailing down his face and dripping on the table. A smiling White Coat hovered over Peter's face as the softest movements sent Peter into shivers, with him giving small cries of pain every single time.

Peter wasn't sure how long they were making a mess of his leg for, he kind of zoned out. After the initial spreader movement, his tears trickled to a stop and his cries became silenced. He couldn't find the energy to feel, even though he was in an extreme amount of pain. Years seemed to pass before he felt a familiar sensation of gauze against his leg as the wound was cleaned slightly. They didn't wrap it, or stitch it, or anything, they just wiped it slightly to remove the blood on the skin surrounding it, and watched.

He knew he healed fast; he could be pummeled one night and wake up the next morning completely fine, minus a few minor bruises here and there. He hated stitched because by the time he'd wake up, the act of getting the stitches out of healed skin was more painful than the actual wound. Part of Peter was grateful for the lack of care these White Coats brought.

That's how they were for five hours and seventeen minutes, or so said one White Coat. Apparently, his wound healed in that amount of time, causing excited scribbling from the excited female White Coat.

"It's magnificent. His healing factor is one of ze fastest recorded besides James Howlett and Vade Vilson," the accent White Coat spoke. "It's on par vith Keptin America. Absolutely marvelous."

Peter didn't retort, or say anything. He felt drained even though he knew that it was one measly cut, and there was probably going to be more. The only problem was that he didn't know just how much more, or if anyone noticed he was missing at all. The more Peter thought about who would miss him, the more he shriveled up inside. Aunt May would notice, but she was gone. They probably told a lie to his two friends and the rest of the school, meaning none of them would look for him, not that the school would care that Peter Parker was missing.

Tony Stark might try to find him, but he doubted it. The last time they spoke, it involved Tony yelling at Peter to get the fuck out of his lab or he'd tell everyone who Spider-man really was. Peter could smell the alcohol, full-force, emanating from Tony, and he could see the bloodshot eyes that glared at him with such fire that Peter could help but shy away. He got out of the lab, and left the building in a hurry, swinging his way away. The only thought running through his head was that it was somehow his fault that Tony was drinking again. He knew that this wasn't true, that it probably wasn't considering they hadn't seen each other in a while and he hadn't done anything he could think of that could have had such an effect on the billionaire. The problem was that his brain refused to believe that, instead opting for telling him it was all his fault. Then May died, and so did Peter.

What Peter got from his reflection was that he was in for a world of pain, for a long while, because no one would be looking for him, he didn't have anyone. So he slipped back into his numb state, too tired to cry out in pain as one of the White Coats somehow found one of his nerves and started tugging at it. It hurt and felt extremely strange, but it wasn't passing out bad. At least, it wasn't until they cut said nerve. Despite his refusal to scream, Peter cried out, shouting louder than he had before, before passing out immediately, hearing only the interested mutterings of the White Coats around him.

He woke up strapped to the table with half of his chest propped open. It didn't take long for him to screech in horror at seeing his ribs and lung below, and promptly faint at the sight.

When he came to the second time, he noticed that his chest was still open and unhealed, meaning it wasn't for that long. Gazing at the large mirror above the table, the thing that allowed him to see everything the White Coats did to him while his body remained immobile, he had to keep himself from throwing up at the sight of his internal organs nearly becoming external. His bottom lip quivered in fear and pain as he saw another incision that had been healed over and closed on the other side of his chest, and one more down the middle of his stomach. They had gave him a vivisection, while he was alive. Warm tears slid from his eyes and he began muttering for someone to help him, anyone. After what felt like hours of crying and pain, Peter slipped back into the blissful blackness of unconsciousness.

Peter decided he hated waking up. When he got out, if he got out, he was never going to wake up again, a silly thing to decide, but he did. This time, and boy was he thankful, he woke up on a sheetless bed in a bland, white and grey room. It wasn't large, but it was big enough to be comfortable. The twin bed fit nicely near a somewhat comfy-looking chair which contained three books on top of it. There were no seams on the wall, and there was only one door. That door, Peter discovered, led to a bathroom with zero sharp objects, or anything that could be used in a way that would be harmful. There was a shower, toilet paper, a toilet, a sink, and some soap. A small hand towel sat on the edge of the sink, the soft blue being the only color in the whole place besides the book covers.

Peter spent his days in this room. He wasn't sure when morning was, or night, or if any time had even passed. The walls apparently glowed and that was his light source. Whenever he was attempting to sleep, or had his eyes closed, the walls would dim significantly, and brighten slightly when he opened his eyes again. He also discovered that there was a small dial in the wall next to the bathroom door to manually control the lights. He kept them fairly dark most of the time. The ceiling was nice and high, around 7-8 feet high. Peter sat on it to think, or just stare at nothingness. He'd already read the books multiple times and it was getting boring. He debated tearing one up to make something of the sheets, but couldn't bring himself to ruin a perfectly good book. Wow, he was a major nerd.

He learned his lesson about the food and water the week, or he thought it was week, he arrived at whatever the place was. A few minutes after he ate and drank, he felt dizzy and felt himself slip into oblivion. Next thing he knew he was strapped to the table in the Room again. That time involved shocking him until the electrical currents damaged his heart's rhythm in order to see if it would heal and, shocker, it did, kind of. Now his heart had a slight permanent murmur, and while it wasn't harmful, it was something to watch for it could turn serious, or so they told him. Peter hoped to high heaven that it would heal fully and he could continue his acrobatic crime fighting without fear of dropping dead. A heart attack at fifteen, how not funny.

After that incident, he stopped eating and drinking. Well, three days of that and he woke up after falling asleep, exhausted and feeling dried out, with multiple IV's feeding him fluids and a tube in his nose trailing into his stomach, giving him nutrients. It was uncomfortable and more of a torture than the actual torture. He started eating and drinking again, but just enough to keep him somewhat alive and away from the tube.

So far, after the first vivisection, slicing of a nerve, and major electrocution, apparently which would have killed a decent sized man at least ten times over, and probably even killed Captain America a few times as well, he gained yet another vivisection, scars tracing over scars because they wanted to see how well he really healed over already healed skin. Not only this, but they cut open his arms to see how the muscles worked, and his legs. They took samples of his blood, flesh, tissue, bones, bone marrow, muscles, and even did a spinal tap. Somehow they managed to grab some of his cerebrospinal fluid, but thankfully he passed out after they stole what he believed to be half of his blood, or more.

They've electrocuted him a few more times, merely to get him to cooperate, and they tried waterboarding him, as well as drowning him. Turns out he can't breathe underwater, surprise surprise.

Cuts, bruises, slices, dices, chopping off the pinky toe of his left foot, which didn't grow back much to the dismay of the White Coats and to Peter because hey, he liked his pinky toe. They managed to put him back together though, with only a faint scar and twinges of pain letting Peter know that yes, his pinky toe had left him for a while.

They tested his reflexes, and every time he dropped or missed something, he was punished. They tested his senses and every time something didn't work out, or he passed out from sensory overload, which happened quite a bit, he was punished. They tested his strength, and he nearly killed someone by crushing their throat, but managed to rein himself back, dropping the man and leaving him gasping for air as Peter scurried away into a dark corner, curling in on himself with quiet sobs.

Days, weeks, what felt like months, passed by and every day, whether he ate or not, he somehow managed to wake up in the Room with some new test being performed. It wasn't just testing though, sometimes it was just torture in order to try to break him, which if they had actually been paying attention, he already was. The problem with trying to break the broken is that once it's broken, shattered, you can try to break it finer and finer, but it's still broken. Peter knew he could just give up and give in, but he decided, day one, that he refused to let these people have their way. So he fought. Every time they tried to break him, he refused to stand down. Every time they goaded him, mocked him, spat at him, he refused to speak. Every time they tried to break him, he was slowly building his walls back up. Sure he didn't want to live, but he wasn't going to give these bastards the satisfaction of taking him from the earthly plane.

There was no way in hell.


	9. Chapter 7

Seven days. Seven days is all it took Peter to figure out a way out. The only problem was that it involved making a deal with the devil. During one of his Sessions in the Room, Art walked in to speak with him, to see if he could finally break the seemingly unbreakable. Sure, the Artist knew that the Spider-kid was already broken, but he had yet to cave and it was fascinating. So there hung Peter, dangling from the ceiling by thick chains and cuffs, toes hovering above the cement floor, head hanging limply against his chest. Art wandered up to him and cleared his throat.

"Hello Peter, how are you today?" No response. Art tried again.

"Did you enjoy meeting Tony Stark yet again? Interesting to find out that he gave up looking for you wasn't it. It's almost as though he doesn't care about you." A slight twitch and bob of the kid's head. There it is.

"Not feeling awfully chatty today are we. Well, that's alright," the man sighed softly, pursing his lips before pulling out a small device and holding it out. Peter lifted his head slightly, just enough to look the man in the eyes and see the silver device. "This here is basically a tape recorder, just jazzed up by yours truly. I thought that you might want to hear what was on it."

The tape played and Peter shrank in on himself, letting his chin drop to his chest once again, rattling the chains above. Even though the tape had all but three sentences on it, it still hurt him. Peter knew that it wasn't true, deep down he knew that Tony would never say that he didn't care about him, that he purposefully gave up, that he barely tried, and wasn't worth the effort, but it was harsh hearing it said aloud. Peter clenched his jaw and smothered the voice telling him it was all true and brought forth his tech brain. Each little discrepancy he heard, every piece that seemed slightly off, gave Peter the knowledge that this tape was spliced together. It was well done, and without his super hearing, he never would have heard the tiniest inflections that didn't quite fit together. There were words in between, before, and after that Peter wasn't allowed to hear. Smirking to himself, Peter let himself appear dejected and broken.

Art smiled the widest he had as he watched the boy's face literally fall when he heard what his supposed mentor had said. He was afraid that maybe he had pushed the boy beyond the breaking point, passed his walls, and started building him up again. It appears that this tape shattered everything the boy had created again. Any hope he had built up was dashed by a few words from an old colleague.

"Are you alright Peter," the man spoke softly, trying to create the appearance that he truly cared for the boy. He wanted Peter to trust him, but he wanted to break him more. Peter shook his head softly, brown locks limply shifting with the motion. "I'm going to lower you down, is that alright?" A gentle nod and Art brought the kid down slowly. He was so close so no matter how much he wanted to drop the child to the cold floor, he couldn't.

As soon as Peter's feet hit the ground and the chain slackened, he collapsed to his knees, and once the chain was as loose as possible, he coughed violently and collapsed to the side, his shoulders a mess of pain. It was getting harder and harder to breathe the longer he was dangling, and his shoulders were slowly being pulled from their sockets with the strain. Sure he was light, but all that weight on his shoulders, at an awkward angle nonetheless, was bound to injure him. He just hoped they would heal.

Peter flinched as the man touched his arm lightly, jerking away from the man in true fear. If he got out of here, Peter wasn't sure if he'd ever be okay with being touched again. He loved touch, but now, after over a month of constant torture and pain at the hands of people, he wasn't sure if he could handle that anymore. Slowly, Art helped the boy into a sitting position and Peter forced himself to relax into the man's grip. He knew that the only way out was to make Art trust that he trusted him, as confusing as that sounds. Art wanted Peter on his side, he wanted Peter to trust him, so Peter needed Art to think exactly that. This way, he could figure out exactly what was happening with everyone and find out how to fix it.

So Peter forced himself to pretend this man was comforting, and even with every fiber of his being yelling and screaming at him to sprint away as fast as he could, he made himself remain hugged against the man who had put him through hell over the past many weeks; the Devil.

It took forever, but finally Art got the boy to his feet and led him, on unsteady legs, out of the Room and towards his office. Sitting the boy in a chair, Art sat across from him behind his desk and stared at the tiny, broken boy. There was a slight twinge of something that crossed his heart, but he dismissed it as heartburn and moved on.

"Peter, I know this is going to be tough for you, but I need you to tell me what you can about each of the Avengers."

"I thought you knew everything," Peter replied, making his voice sound as small and pathetic as possible while refusing to make eye contact.

"We do," the man chuckled. "But I'd like to hear your version of everything you know about them." So Peter told the man everything that wasn't going to harm anyone. He left out things that could cause harm, and added in details that were unnecessary. He talked about Tony's habit of figuring out equations in his sleep, but forgetting them when he'd wake up. The thing was, he didn't know a whole lot about the other Avengers, so he went off of what he'd heard and what he'd seen. There wasn't much to tell, so the conversation wasn't too long.

"Would you like to see Tony," Art asked as Peter's rambles trailed off. The boy's head gave a slightly bob to indicate a yes, and Art ushered the boy up from the seat and led him to the lab where Stark was being held. The door hissed open and Tony stopped his fiddling to glance up, jaw hitting the floor when he saw a defeated looking Peter standing behind the Devil.

"Peter?"


	10. Chapter 8

Tony couldn't believe it. Here he was working on one of the various projects he could have completed a long while ago if he had motivation, when the door hisses open and in steps the man responsible for all of this. Tony was about to say something incredibly snarky and quite inappropriate when his jaw dropped as he saw a small and fragile Peter standing behind him, head down, hand rubbing his right shoulder, though his hand and frame were hidden beneath a giant sweatshirt that could have been a dress. All of the words that were about to spew from his mouth died the second he saw the kid, and he could only form one instead.

"Peter?" The kid lifted his head to meet Tony's eyes before looking back at the floor, with his right hand rubbing his left shoulder now. Tony could have sworn he saw some sort of mischievous sparkle in his eyes, but he doubted it from the body language the kid was giving off.

"Hello Tony, nice to see you've been getting something done instead of twiddling your thumbs."

"What did you do?"

"Oh Tony, I merely played him a tape of you telling him you gave up on him, that you didn't care, so I think you did something, not me." Tony blinked and was about to respond he never said that when he remembered the conversation the two had previous. 'Must have spliced words together', Tony thought, 'goddamn bastard son of a bi-'

"All it took were a few little words to break down an entire will. A fascinating thing, whoever said that words will never hurt was wrong. Words are far worse than any sort of stick or stone, because words never leave. I myself still remember words said to me when I was merely four. It's not the sticks and stones that will kill you, they help sure, but it's the words that crush the soul to the point where they give up."

"Peter, Pete look at me, what did he do to you," Tony pleaded to the kid, begging him to look him in the eyes, but the kid merely hugged himself tighter and shrank away, causing Tony to feel as though a dagger was run through his heart. 'This is all my fault', his mind whispered.

"He broke Stark. He told me everything." Peter twitched his nose. That was a lie, he told him jackshit. The thing was, he knew that the man was trying to get the better of Tony, so Peter glanced up at the man whom he looked up to for years and met his gaze.

Tony stared into the kid's eyes, seeing so much flowing in them that it was hard to decipher what he was trying to convey, but if there's one thing that Tony got, it was that the kid was far from broken. The man couldn't know that though, so Peter let his head fall back down, hugging himself tighter and trying to inch away from the man when he slung an arm over his shoulders. Peter stiffened, and Tony saw how uncomfortable and terrified Peter was.

"He's mine now Stark, and there's nothing you can do about it." With that, the pair spun around and left the room. Before the door shut though, Peter met eyes with Tony one last time and tried to tell him that he was fine, that he knew what he was doing. The problem was that he had know way of knowing if Tony thought he had broken or not. Time would tell.

Peter ended up back in his room for that night, and the next he was told he'd be visiting Captain America himself. Peter didn't know the man all that well besides when the man kicked him in the chest and dropped an airport terminal on top of him, as well as the various videos that his school played as a part of the curriculum. He needed to let the man know he was fine, while simultaneously conveying he wasn't. Piece of cake.

The room was bleak and bare, a typical captive-holding area that one would see in a movie. Steve was strapped to a chair with shackles like the one's that had to be used to hold Peter. Well, they were used until he managed to break out of the supposedly unbreakable during one of his rage moments. The Room was a mess and he was severely punished, as in they killed him, only for him to find out that they let his heart restart on its own, causing the boy to internally groan when he thought about how much strain his heart was being put through. The death part didn't really hit him until a few days later.

Steve's neck was strapped to the metal chair as well, probably to prevent too much movement. Peter winced in sympathy. He knew how it felt to be in that chair, that's where they put him when he refused to obey one time and they left him there for hours, in the dark, with only a steady drip to accompany him. He nearly went mad and was extremely sore for days after being held in the same position. He couldn't imagine what it was like to be sitting in the chair for days felt like.

Peter played his role of a scared, broken boy with perfection because that's all he was. The only reason that he was still standing on his two feet was the adrenaline coursing through his veins. As soon as it would wear off, Peter would be slumped against the ground, unwilling to move or do much of anything.

Here he was, facing a man who punched him in the face, being stared at with wide eyes.

"You brought a kid into this? Do you have any sort of morals? What kind of a person brings a child to this place?" The man chuckled at the Captain's response as he pulled Peter next to him, an arm around the boy's shoulders. Steve noticed how the boy stiffened and his body language read that he wanted so badly to run. Why he didn't, Steve could only imagine, and it wasn't pretty.

"I'm merely following Mr. Stark's lead of bringing a child into a fight. I mean, you had no problem dropping around sixty tons of metal on him did you Rogers?" Steve winced and then realization hit him.

"Wait, you're that Spider-kid?" Peter nodded meekly, making eye contact with the Captain briefly, trying to show him he was able to handle it on his own, before looking back down at the floor.

"I mentioned having the kid to you when we first spoke Rogers. You didn't expect him to look or be this young did you? Do you feel something, knowing you could have crushed him, or killed him? I bet you do." Steve registered the words, but just barely. He was trying to determine what he had seen in the kid's eyes. There was an unbelievable amount of determination, but also fear and pain, hiding in his eyes.

"I do, but I knew he could handle the weight."

"How, might I ask?"

"He was doing a decent job keeping up with me. Hell, if he had any sort of training, he might have won," Steve said with a soft smile, seeing how the kid's eyes widened slightly in shock before they clouded over with sadness and his head dropped again. Steve pursed his lips in thought. This kid was hurting, bad. He was missing for over a month, and no one knew what happened during that time.

"Well, I'd have to agree with you. You see, during one of our tests, it was determined that this child here has the strength to cave a man's skull in to the point where they are unrecognizable, with one blow, at around half strength. Not even you could do that much damage at half strength Mr. Rogers, we know, we've seen your strength in action. His strength is still developing as well. The more he grows, the stronger he gets. He's already surpassed you and your precious Bucky, and is possibly verging on Hulk strength, though I doubt it." Steve stared at the tiny child. He looked like a light breeze could blow him over, and the baggy sweatshirt and pants didn't help his lost child/kicked puppy hybrid look one bit.

"That's impressive," was all Steve could think to say, getting a chuckle from the man.

"Very much so. Do you want to know a secret Rogers? We don't need you, any of you really. We just need the boy. You see, while your abilities are impressive, and Tony and Banner's minds are equally so, this boy has everything. His intellect far surpasses both Stark's and Banner's combined, and his abilities are equal or superior to yours. His senses, strength, healing, speed, it's all better than yours to some extent. And he's still growing, meaning his abilities are still developing. The best part of all of this Rogers. He's mine now." Steve was glaring at the man, but his eyes glanced frantically to the kid, noting how broken down and tired he seemed. The tense slouch, the downcast eyes, the hiding in large clothes. The kid looked like he had given up, and it was heartbreaking.

"That's not true."

"I'm afraid it is Rogers. You see, all it took were a few words from a supposed mentor to break down the hope he rebuilt during his time here. I was thinking that maybe I overdid it and I made him unbreakable while trying to break him. Turns out, all I needed to do was make him see he wasn't needed. Goodbye Captain," the man said, turning and dragging the kid out with him. Peter managed to catch Steve's worry-filled eyes one last time before the door slid shut, effectively preventing the angry shouts from escaping the room. Peter felt terrible for making them worry about him, but he had to, to make this work.

Over the next four days, he met with the other four Avengers. The only one who seemed to know who he was was Natasha, which wasn't surprising. The thing that hit Peter the most was how concerned the Widow seemed. She kept herself looking composed, but any mention of what happened to Peter, or how broken he was, she seethed with barely controlled anger. Murder was written on her features, and flames danced in her eyes as the man and Peter left the room.

They all seemed to care about him, even if they didn't actually know him. This only cemented his want to break them out. And now that he knew what the defenses were, and how they were being held, he could start working on a plan.

The seventh day came and he sat with Art in his office in silence. Peter wasn't sure how long they'd been sitting there, and maybe he pushed it too far and lost the chance he had, or maybe he didn't. He had ended up in Art's office and told him, in a soft manner, that he could upgrade the security features around the Avengers and base if he wanted him to.

"It wouldn't be difficult or long, just a few minor strands of code. You can even go through them if you want afterwards," Peter had said, and the room lapsed into a deadly silence. This was ten minutes ago. He was just about to speak again when Art held up a hand and waved it, telling him to go.

"Go for it kid, just make sure I look at every little bit alright, no hiding anything from me. And make sure that everything is secure. We can't have anyone getting out, not yet, not before they're broken."

"Thank you sir," Peter mumbled softly before standing and being escorted to the control room. He kept his head staring at the floor, arms hugging himself to try to quell the anxiety that was clutching his soul at the moment, and smirked to himself. A few unassuming strands of code were all he needed to get into the system. Then, soon, everyone would be free.

He would fix everything.


	11. Chapter 9

Art did look through all of the strands of code, nodding approvingly and making some hums of interest as he went through it. Peter sat in the chair across from him, acting as he did in front of the Devil man. Silence echoed in the room, broken only occasionally by the soft mumblings of approval, until Art shut the laptop with a loud click, causing Peter to jerk his head up, eyes wide in genuine surprise and fear.

"You pulled it off kid. With these tweaks to our system, there will be no chance that anyone can get out, not even the strongest or smartest could break through. Nice work," Art said happily, giving Peter the laptop. The boy looked at it in confusion.

"Why are you giving me this? I finished the coding."

"It's yours kid, for doing such a good job. Just don't go hacking anything alright, there are safeguards, and there will be consequences," the Devil man spoke softly, and harshly, to the kid, who gave a slight shudder. The boy was dismissed and he wandered back to his room with only a singular guard instead of the usual four heavily armed ones. The door hissed shut and the seem vanished, leaving him with his thoughts and a laptop. Peter smirked slightly, staring at the computer in his hands. This was working better than expected. The only problem, he didn't know why Art was trusting him so quickly, it was concerning. Instead of worrying over it though, he sat on his bed and started typing in his new device.

The first thing he did was make an untraceable, unnoticable blurb in the system which would allow him to navigate the servers and systems without detection. After that, he wove his way through the different lines in order to find the one that could get him through to his code, and further through to Tony. It took him a little while, longer than it should have, mainly because he had to be extremely careful as to not trip any of the security measures that he himself had placed on top of the ones already existing. Luckily, he had just been through all of it less than fifteen minutes ago, and he created most of it, so he knew it fairly well. He nearly let out a whoop of triumph when he broke through to Tony's computers. He knew that one of the monitors had a camera mounted on it, so he flicked it on to see if he could find Tony and gain his attention. Thankfully, the man was sitting right in front of it and Peter typed out a short message that he sent through to take over the screen.

Tony wasn't sure what was going on at first. One minute he was glancing at some specs on the monitor in front of him, the next thing he knows a small chat box pops up with a small message in bright green text, standing out from the black background around it.

'Tony, nod if you got this.' was all the message read, to which Tony gazed at in confusion before making a slow and uncertain nod.

'Great. I see you through the webcam, don't worry.' Tony was extremely confused now as he stared at the camera, noting the small light was on. Raising an eyebrow at the camera, he rolled his eyes and tried going back to work.

'I'm in their system.' the next line read, causing Tony to rub a hand down his face in annoyance and complete and utter confusion. This time, he typed back.

'Who the hell are you? What do you want? Why are you watching me? How are you in their system?' After typing his questions, he glared into the camera before another line appeared.

'Your friendly neighborhood hacker.' Tony blinked a few times, eyes widening as he looked into the camera.

'How?'

'It doesn't matter, just be ready.' Tony gave a 'what the hell' look into the camera.

'I can't say, just please be ready, we won't have long. Don't respond, i'm shutting down.' With that, the chat disappeared like it was never there. Tony tried to find it again, delving into the files, but there was nothing that indicated it was even real. Running a hand over his face, Tony leaned back against his chair and spun. Either he was severely sleep deprived and hallucinating again, or something was going to happen at some point. Whichever it was, he decided he needed to help in some way, so he scrapped his previous project and pulled up a familiar one. Why they think that telling him to build it was smart, he had no clue. All he could do was be thankful it was there. The only problem was that he wasn't sure how long he had, so he had to work fast.

Peter had sent the final message and shut down the chat immediately, erasing all traces, even if there weren't any. Wiping everything, Peter tried to figure out the best way to get a message to everyone else, but decided that in lieu of him blatantly speaking to them and saying be ready, or some how sending a coded message through the lights or whatnot, that he was just going to have to hope they'd be ready, or be able to be ready somewhat fast.

The window that they would have would be incredibly slow, but Peter had already figured out the logistics of it all. He had been dragged through the hallways enough times, and had tried to escape enough times, that he basically knew the layout to the entire place, as well as how many people at a time were within the place. Plus, thanks to the weird sixth sense that had started yelling at him starting at the airport in Germany, and only sharpened the more the White Coats tested him, he could figure out if something was going to happen before it did. He was debating what to call it, and was leaning towards Spider Sense, or Spidey Sense, but he wasn't sure.

Peter's lines of code would cause a fritz in the system, shutting down literally everything connected to the electricity minus the air, as well as the backup generators. It would be down for around ten minutes before everything powered back on. The emergency lights would remain on because they were battery powered, but they were dim and hardly shed any useful light. Peter noticed this during one of his previous escape attempts, the first one actually, out of three. He nearly made it, but ended up with a couple needles filled with the strong tranquilizer serum created specifically for super people, mainly him. Since he hadn't been eating, his metabolism slowed, meaning that his body couldn't get the drug out of his system fast enough. The lack of helpful lighting aided his escape somewhat, why they turned on, Peter had yet to figure out.

Basically, it was much like an EMP blast that would hit everything, giving them their window. The best part was that it would make it appear that it was the actual, physical system that blew out everything, and not the code. And if they somehow traced it back to the coding, it would appear to come from an outside source thousands of miles away. Peter knew how to hide his tracks, he just hoped there were no hunters on the team.

The plan was that two days from current time, the system would fritz out. Peter would make sure he was either in Art's office or in Tony's lab area. From either place, he would get to Tony and from there, he would send Tony straight down one hallway to Banner's cage, and he would twist around the winding way to Cap's chair. From there, he would lead Cap to the two others and they'd make their way to Nat and Clint's darkness and then they'd all get to Thor. From there, Peter would either lead them out or have someone smash through a wall and they'd make a run for it. The problem was that all of this had to happen in less than ten minutes, and it wasn't a very good plan at all. Peter knew his plan was terribly bland and wasn't even going to work, but it was all he had. Plus, Peter thought of himself as a master improviser, after all, his fighting was acrobatic and full of quips that he thinks of on the spot. He should stop superheroing and start doing stand-up. He'd sure make more money doing that than swinging around in a red and blue costume.

'Focus, plan', Peter thought to himself as he started thinking about him in his Spidey suit doing stand-up comedy at a random club. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Peter closed and set down the laptop before crawling up on the ceiling, closing his eyes, and trying to go over every possible scenario of what could happen, in his head. What he determined was simple. It was going to be almost impossible that they all made it out.

And utterly impossible that they would all make it out alive.


	12. Chapter 10

The day had finally arrived when they'd make a break for it. Peter had to contain his nerves, but it was difficult when he was nearly shaking with fear over what would happen to him if he was caught. He steeled himself though, knowing that if he got caught, he was going to get as many of the Avengers out as possible before doing so. After all, they mattered, he didn't. New York and the world could live without Spider-man, but without the Avengers, who would stop the big baddies from taking everything from everyone?

He walked to Art's office and sat in his usual chair. The man had summoned him without any reason it seemed, and Peter was a bit nervous because in a little over an hour, his codes would fry the system. That meant he needed to keep Art talking for that long. Piece of cake really, just keep a madman chatting for a little over an hour so that Peter could sabotage his systems. Easy.

"Do you know why you're here Peter?" The boy shook his head. "You're here because I'd like to tell you what I have found out about you over these past six or so weeks. Would you like to know what we discovered Peter."

"Yessir," Peter responded softly, in genuine meek fashion. Even though Peter was telling himself he was playing the part of a broken kid, if he was to be honest with himself, he really wasn't acting at all. The fear, brokenness, pain, loss of will, all of it was real. Instead of hiding it like he did around the Avengers for the most part, covering it with determination, he just let it seep through when he was just with Art. The Avengers don't have any idea of Peter's plan to break them out, and they certainly don't know that if he doesn't make it out, but they do, he wouldn't care.

"Your strength is beyond that of Captain Rogers', though that was proven when you broke out of the shackles we have restraining him currently with little effort." Peter shifted uncomfortably at that. He knew that his strength was extreme, even on a super stand point, and he hated it. Everything he touched, he had to be extremely careful that he used absolutely zero of his strength, and even when the strength was needed, he had to be careful that it wasn't close to his full strength, not that he knew his full strength, he was still learning about it all. The closest he came to what he believed to be the most strength he used was when he was trying to hold the ferry together. If he had used any more of his strength, the lines would have ripped, or the ferry would have broken even more. So he had no idea of his true strength.

"It's quite amazing really. Everyone says that they want Captain America's supersoldier serum, when they should be looking for you. I mean you are far superior to him in quite a few ways. Your healing factor is on par with his, and perhaps a bit faster, if you are getting the proper amount of nutrients that your body needs. It seems that your healing factor is somewhat connected to your metabolism and the better your metabolism, the faster it works, the faster you heal. You strength also correlates to your intake of calories and nutrients. The more you eat, and the better you eat, the stronger you are, and you haven't even stopped growing yet. The more you grow, the stronger you'll get, the faster you'll get, the faster you'll heal, the better your senses will be. As you grow up, your abilities will grow with you." Peter nodded.

"So my abilities now will only increase?" Peter gulped in fear of what his strength could become. The Devil man nodded.

"Yes. Now, Peter, your speed is not quite Quicksilver fast, which is understandable, but it is remarkable all the same. With the help of that sixth sense you appear to have, it is extraordinary. You can move faster than any other super person with some semblance of a heightened speed. Though your reactions are equally as fast, your sixth sense eludes us as to what it is. We have yet to determine is it is some form of precognition, or perhaps just another sense that relays possible points of danger to you. It appears to be the latter, but we are fairly certain that the more you train it, the more it will become akin to the former. Perhaps you'll be able to predict your opponents moves before even they think about it, successfully taking them down without any effort at all." Peter shuddered at the thought of knowing the future. Sure it'd be handy, but he didn't want to know the future because the future terrified him.

"Your senses, as you may have noticed, have been significantly enhanced and, just like your sixth sense, would increase with training. We will work with you on all of this at later dates. With your senses, it has been noted that normal things that cause us humans to squint, or cringe at, are magnified at least ten times for you, probably more. You suffered many a sensory overload as we tried to figure out your maximum and minimum capabilities. You can hear far beyond what a normal human being can, as well as see far beyond to the point where you can see details to things around twenty feet away that people could barely see at five or less. Your vision may even be better than that. Your smell, taste, and touch also appear to be enhanced, though the taste and touch not necessarily at much as the others, they still have a significant difference."

"So everything about me has been dialled to eleven?"

"In Layman's terms, I suppose that, yes, that is correct. Everything about you has been enhanced by the spider bite you received months ago. With proper training and stimulation, you could become a truly remarkable soldier. You would be near impossible to defeat, though currently, we have made it somewhat interesting." Peter looked up at the man with large, questioning eyes filled with concern.

"What do you mean," he squeaked out, mentally counting down the time he had left.

"You don't think that we would just torture you or merely experiment on you did you Peter? You've been here over a month. We've implanted certain things within your mind, things that you will never discover until a proper time and training sequence. I bet that you don't even notice that I've been speaking in Russian, German, Arabic, and Spanish for the entirety of our conversation and you could still understand me." Peter gulped and tried to think back. He couldn't tell if the Devil man was lying or not. It terrified him.

"Oh Peter, child, calm yourself, don't want another panic attack now do we? You see Peter, have you ever heard of a program called Winter Soldier by chance?" Peter nodded hesitantly. "Bucky Barnes, correct, Captain Rogers' friend? That's where." Another nod.

"We designed that program and the methods used in it. That was years previous however, and since then, we have perfected it. The Corporation learned that instead of wiping a memory and starting fresh, we could implant things within a brain instead, allowing the person to retain their own actions, thoughts, and feelings, while simultaneously already having innate knowledge over certain techniques that we find useful, such as languages from around the world. The problem, dear Peter, was that the many that we have tried to implant this knowledge with before you have all went mad, or became catatonic. Either way, they all ended up dead. You see, Peter, your mind is still stretching and growing, much like a sponge, allowing us to implant the knowledge in, slowly, over the course of your time here. You have the project downloaded into your mind without knowing how to find it."

"Wha-What does that mean," Peter exclaimed softly, eyes filled with panic and fear. Surely there wasn't too much time left before everything went dark. It felt like this was stretching for days.

"It means, dear Peter, that you have all of the knowledge and capability to become the world's greatest threat, the world's best assassin, the world's most feared soldier, with the proper training of course. You see, Peter, without the proper training that would coax these abilities from you, you're basically a ticking time bomb. With every encounter, you risk setting off one of the innumerable latent memories within your head. With every step, you may find yourself farther away from your home than you can remember walking. You may wake up to find all of your friends lying around you, dead, at your hand. The knowledge, if not properly brought out, can cause a greater disaster than ever seen before." Now Peter was freaking out. He didn't want anything to happen. He was panicking and shaking violently. He felt his hands going numb and knew he was hyperventilating.

"Peter, calm your mind, calm. You don't have to worry about any of that Peter. I will help you figure this all out. We cannot control you with a mere string of words like the former Winter Soldier, or wipe you if you become unruly and start to remember, because you are your own person, just with knowledge implanted within you. It is entirely your choice whether you cooperate or not. You can remain in your room, or you can train out your abilities. If you attempt to escape, we will not stop you, but you will have to live with the knowledge that even the smallest thing could trigger an implant with devastating consequences. So, Peter, your move, what's it going to be?" Peter could only stare at the man, frozen in his seat, when his countdown ended.

"Freedom," was the last thing uttered before everything blacked out. Peter bolted immediately and sprinted to the lab in the low, red light that draped the hallway. He broke down the metal door that he probably shouldn't have been able to only to find himself face to face with a repulsor. Quickly shifting himself from the path of fire, he moved closer to the Iron Man before grabbing him by his extended arm and dragging him with him. They had to move, and fast. Their time was trickling down.

"Hey, wait, kid? What the hell? I almost killed you," Tony exclaimed as he was dragged at extremely fast speeds through a series of winding hallways. The boy didn't say anything until they hit a divergence.

"I need you to follow this straight to the end and blast open the door. That's where Bruce is. There will probably be at least three armed guards on the inside, another two on the outside. Be careful and wait there once you get him out, we'll meet you there."

"Wait, kid, what?" By the time he got the words out, the kid had already started sprinting away, having vanished beyond a corner. "What the hell," he muttered before flying down the hallway, yelling and fighting anyone he came across. Then the alarms started blaring.

Peter went faster than he thought he could and completely overshot the door and smashed through a wall. With a small groan and mutter of 'ow' he crawled through the hole and crashed through the door to Steve's room. The man looked at him in complete shock, and continued to do so as Peter ripped the cuffs and braces away like he was ripping up paper. The kid grabbed his arm and dragged him quickly down a winding path towards what sounded like a fight. A repulsor beam shot out, nearly clipping Peter, as the duo rounded the corner to see a frantic Iron Man fighting off waves of soldiers, with a green-looking Bruce behind him.

"Uh oh," was all that was uttered before a loud roar ripped through the hallway, silencing the fight. In place of Bruce stood Hulk in all of his massive glory. Stepping to the side, Stark let Hulk burst his way out of the room as the group followed suit. That was, until, Peter realized it was the wrong way. He released his grip on Steve and sped ahead, climbing on the walls and ceiling to get in front of Hulk. Once he reached the green giant on a rampage, he leapt down onto the man, who stopped and turned to face him, yelling in his ears. Peter had to keep himself conscious, quite ready to black out from the pain the shout caused him. He was pretty sure his ears were bleeding, and, upon inspection, deemed that they were indeed bleeding. Shaking his head to try to get rid of the ringing he was hearing, Peter stared him down and just sat cross-legged on his giant arm, waiting for the man to calm down slightly. To the surprise of the two other Avengers, the Hulk calmed down and held out a hand to Spidey.

"Sorry," was all he said before setting the Spider on the floor.

"It's okay big guy, just try not screaming in someone's ears next time," Peter shouted because quite honestly, he couldn't hear jackshit. "This way, we need to get Thor." And off they went. Hulk did what he did best and made a Hulk-sized hole in the wall. Upon releasing Thor, who looked at the group in confusion, but said nothing otherwise, they headed quickly to the two other remaining Avengers. During the time spent releasing them, all Peter could think about was what Art had told him. He really wanted to leave, but he was filled with fear thinking about what he might become. His steps faltered slightly as the group ran for the exit. He started trailing behind the group, shouting that he was going to make sure everyone made it out and that he'd be fine. He stayed towards the back of the group as they reached the exit, which was made of two giant hangar doors that looked extremely thick and not very moveable. Hulk, Steve, and Thor started trying to make a hole while Tony tried to hack into the system.

A slow clap was heard echoing around. The whole group stopped and stared, a growl from Hulk being the only other sound in the room, minus the whirring of Tony's suit and the clap.

"I have to say kid, you had a good run, this was your best attempt yet." Peter could feel the eyes on him, but all he could do was narrow his eyes at the man responsible for his pain. "You made it, congratulations. You're free to go," the man said with a beaming smile and, tapping something on his wrist, opened the large doors to the outside. The Avengers looked wary at their opening, when Hulk burst forward through the opening and made it to the woods unscathed. The group started following suit, with Clint, Thor, and Natasha following suit. "That is, Peter, if you want to." Steve and Tony, the remaining Avengers, had walked to stand side by side with him in the large hangar they ended their run in.

"What does he mean by that kid?"

"Yeah Pete, what's he talking about?" Peter looked at the two of them, tears in his eyes. The man merely laughed in response, walking closer to the trio.

"You have no idea, then again, neither did little Petey here until moments before the lights cut out, a brilliant plan by the way Pete, wonderfully executed I suppose. I suppose that Peter will just have to tell you all himself come time. Have a wonderful life Spider-man," with that Art waved his hand and bullets began raining down like a storm. The three sprinted out the door, Peter hissing as one buried itself in his calf, but kept running due to adrenaline. Upon reaching the treeline, they collapsed to the ground before standing and heading to meet in the clearing where their jet used to be.

Surprisingly enough, the aircraft appeared to still be there, and fully functioning, given how it was up and running with the rest of the team just waiting on the three. Tony, Steve, and Peter boarded and the jet lifted out of the clearing and they started on their way home, though Peter wasn't sure where 'home' was anymore. His home was with Aunt May, and she was gone.

"Wait, what about the original mission?"

"Destroying the base, got that covered," Tony said before the group looked out the windshield to see the base exploding in the most wonderful display of fireworks imaginable.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand."


	13. Author's Note 3 (Plus preview summary)

**Oh my goodness, you guys. The response to this story has been amazing, I don't even know what to say. This portion of the series I'm starting I think has concluded. The next portion I think will be titled Recovery, and from there, I'll see if it goes somewhere else, so be on the lookout for that. Hopefully I'll post it soon, and I'll put a little summary of the story and what will be happening at the bottom of this so yeah.**

 **I just, you guys are amazing, and thank you for all of your kind words. I've actually been feeling kind of okay the past two days, and you wonderful, amazing people have helped me more than you think. Words really are wonderful. Words can cut, but they can also heal. Thank you all so much, and if I start slumping again, I won't hesitate to contact and speak with any of you. Thank you so so much, you are beautiful human beings. I love you all.**

 **Keep fighting that good fight my peeps, and as promised, the sequel summary.**

 **Enjoy my dudes, dudettes, and other fabulous humans.**

 _ **Upon arriving back in New York, Peter has nowhere to go, so he ends up with the Avengers. Through many trials, tribulations, screw-ups, and beat-ups, the team will learn just how broken their youngest is. And just how strong even the smallest can become.**_

 **I hope that satisfies you while I try to somewhat plot out what the hell I'm doing. In case you haven't noticed, there are many errors within what is written already, and that is because I don't proofread. That and I literally wrote the chapters and posted them like five minutes after I finished, max. This story was a big dump filled with flaws that I didn't expect to get this kind of response for, so again, thank you my peeps. I love you all so much.**

 **Keep being fabulous.**

 **Peace.**

 **P.S. Keep an eye out for that sequel, hopefully for which the first chapter or two will be posted within a few days as I have yet to actually write it yet, heh.**


	14. Author's Note 4 (The Announcement)

**Hello you all! I published Recovery, though the only thing within it is merely another one of these things, so I understand if you don't want to look at it until the actual chapters start rolling in. If you don't read that, I promise to post the first chapter, at very least, tomorrow, but currently, I am as dead as most every parental figure of superheroes, if that makes sense. I promise, promise, promise to publish the first chapter tomorrow and apologize for the amount of errors I know are going to be in there.**

 **That is all.**

 **As always, enjoy (when I actually publish the damn thing)**

 **Peace.**


End file.
